A Mile in my Shoes
by Disasteriffic Kaz
Summary: Written for OhSam Comment Fic- Dean is given a first-hand view of what life in his brother's head is like thanks to one pissed-off witch. Post 7x07 "The Mentalists" hurt/comfort and angst aplenty for Sam and Dean.


**Title:** A Mile in my Shoes

**Author:** Disasteriffic Kaz

**Info:** Written for OhSam Comment Fic- Dean is given a first-hand view of what life in his brother's head is like thanks to one pissed-off witch. Post 7x07 "The Mentalists" hurt/comfort and angst aplenty for Sam and Dean.

**Author's Note**: Prompted by rokhal on LJ: _Somehow, through some kind of magical brain glue or superpower malfunction or meddling gods, Dean gets sucked out of his body and into Sam's Cage-riddled brain. Sam is alone with Dean's comatose body and thinks the Dean in his head is another hallucination. Dean struggles to keep his brother on the right side of sanity while getting a back-stage view at Sam's screwed-up perceptions, and also punches Hallucifer in the face._

**This story is un-beta'd.** All mistakes are my own.

_**Follow me on Facebook as "Disasteriffic Kaz" for frequent fic updates or just to chat!__**  
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"Dean, I really think…"

"She's a witch, Sam." Dean cut his brother off and rolled his eyes. "Hell, she's the worst kind of witch! Sold her soul to a damn demon for a little supernatural pick-me-up and you want us to just walk away?"

Sam sighed. His brother's opinion of witches could be frustratingly narrow sometimes; not that Sam really blamed him for it. He could literally count on one hand…one finger even…the number of times a witch had done something nice for them and then, that particular witch had only saved them from a leviathan in an off-handed sort of thanks for saving his marriage…to another witch and with the not-so-veiled threat that they shouldn't cross paths again.

"She hasn't actually hurt anyone." Sam tried again. "I know she's a witch and I know she's causing trouble but in her own way, I think she's been trying to help people."

"Help?" Dean turned and stared at him in surprise for a moment before looking back out to the road. "What about that guy yesterday? Was she 'helping' him when he dove off the third street bridge for a little swim?" He stared Sam down angrily. "The only reason that guy ain't coolin' in the morgue right now is because we were there to pull him out." Dean gave a shudder. "That water was friggin cold, dude."

"I talked to her Dean." Sam really didn't feel right about going after the woman. She'd seemed so…nice. "She said she's helping people understand the things that frighten them. She didn't threaten me. She made me cookies, dude! What evil, kill everyone witch does that?"

"Probably poisoned with something." Dean muttered and turned a glare at his brother. "And you can bet your ass we'll be checking that out before we burn her damn altar."

Sam opened his mouth and then snapped it closed. Dean wasn't going to listen; not about a witch and certainly not to Sam. Their renewed trust in each other only went so far yet. "Fine, but can we at least try talking to her first?" Lara had been kind to Sam, even once she'd realized he was a Hunter. She'd just continued to smile at him and for no reason he could think of, she had thanked him on her porch as he left after looking deeply into his eyes. There was just something about her that didn't say 'evil' to him.

"Sure, we can talk but do you really think she's just gonna hand over the witch goodies, change her witchy ways and let a pissed off demon come collect on her soul?"

Sam shook his head sadly. "No." Lara had actually been blunt with him. She had told him how, longer ago than she was willing to admit to, she'd made a deal with a demon for real power rather than the make-believe other witches often got up to. When she died, whenever that might be, her soul had a one way ticket to hell and she seemed disturbingly alright with that.

The rest of the drive passed in silence to the outskirts of town with neither brother wanting to renew the pointless argument. Dean worked to keep his temper in check and not lash out at Sam again but there were days when it didn't seem like his little brother had a clue just how compromised his judgment could become. Dean rolled his eyes; trusting a damn witch because she made him cookies. He pulled up and parked the charger - and dammit he missed the Impala thanks to those damn big mouths - behind Lara's house and got out with Sam at his side.

"I don't want to kill her if she doesn't force us too, Dean." Sam told him firmly. On that point, he wouldn't budge and gave a small smile of relief when Dean easily nodded.

"Long as she doesn't try to scoop my heart out with a spoon or something, she'll be fine. Come on." Dean strode off to the house and drew his gun as Sam grudgingly drew his. They were loaded with blessed silver rounds. Sam had done some research on Lara, her particular form of power and the demon she was tethered to. In theory, the rounds would kill her if they had to.

Sam stepped ahead of his brother on the porch, ignoring the soft growl of irritation and opened the back door to step inside. He felt like an intruder and it bothered him that it hadn't been locked. A light flickered from the other side of the house and he headed stealthily down the hall. Dean was a solid presence at his back as they neared the sitting room where Lara had spoken to him the day before. He hadn't even reached the door when her voice drifted out to them.

"It's alright, Sam. Come in," Lara's voice called softly and calmly. "Bring your brother. I know why you're here."

Sam glanced back at Dean and his big brother shrugged; unhappy but it was a little late to surprise her now. Sam turned back and stepped into the parlor. "Hello, again." Sam gave her a small smile which she returned and in deference to his brother, kept his gun aimed at her.

"I knew you boys would be coming soon," Lara waved them into the room and then went to a curtain draped wall. She took hold of the heavy, butter-yellow curtain and yanked it back to reveal an alcove and her altar. Candles guttered on a black satin cloth with demonic symbols drawn in chalk around a bowl of darkly glistening liquid that could only be blood.

"Phoning home?" Dean asked facetiously.

"There's no call to be crass, Dean." Lara told him. "And no. I haven't spoken to the thing that holds my soul in centuries, nor do I care too."

"Lara, you could just stop," Sam said softly; pleading with his eyes. "Let us destroy that." He nodded to her altar. "I know you'll lose the power but would that really be so bad?"

Lara shook her head; her eyes moving between the two men as Dean flanked her slowly. "It's not that simple, Sam." She sighed and smiled at him. "While I live, the demon that bought my soul is trapped in hell but at the moment of my death; we trade places." She nodded to the surprised look on his face and smirked. "I was always very good at making a bargain." She shrugged. "There was more to it of course like, renouncing my powers amounts to renouncing the deal and my life is forfeit."

"Damn." Sam said softly.

"I can tell you both this; I have never killed anyone who didn't try to kill me first." Lara held her chin up. "I am not a murderer," she said fiercely and her gaze landed on Dean. "I'm always very good at reading people. It took me all of five minutes to see everything important about Sam and less than that to read your fear, Dean." Lara nodded when Dean's shoulders tensed and his gun aimed between her eyes. She looked back at Sam. "For you, Sam. No one dies tonight and because you ate my cookies…" Lara smiled warmly at him with a soft chuckle. "…even knowing I was a witch, I'm going to give you a gift before I leave."

"A gift?" Sam backed away from her a step as a chill ran down his spine. "I don't…"

"It won't be easy, of course. Nothing truly worth learning ever is," Lara said and turned to look at Dean again. "You underestimate him where you shouldn't and you doubt him where you should be singing his praises." Her expression turned severe. "You of all people."

Dean couldn't help feeling like a teenager being dressed-down by a teacher in front of the class. He didn't appreciate it. "Whatever, lady. The altar's gotta go and your grimoire."

Lara ignored him and turned back to Sam. "And you. Oh, Sam." She risked everything to take a step closer and touch gentle fingers to his cheek; knowing well that the only thing saving her from death at Dean Winchester's hands at that moment was that shooting her meant the risk of shooting Sam. "You are so much stronger than you think but you need to remember."

"Remember what?" Sam frowned and grudgingly lowered his gun. He couldn't shoot her anyway with Dean directly behind her.

"Sometimes, relying on your big brother doesn't make you weak." Lara said softly and smiled. "Sometimes, it's alright to admit that you need him every bit as much as he needs you."

"Get away from him," Dean snarled. His patience was at an end.

"You'll both understand soon." Lara smiled at him again. "This is my gift, Sam; shining a light in the places we're afraid to look. Goodbye."

"What?" Sam looked over her head to his brother and then gasped as bright, white light flared from the bowl on the altar. It blinded him and he slammed his eyes closed.

Sam blinked his eyes open and realized he was on the floor with a start. He put a hand to his aching head and then sat up with a gasp. "Dean!" He looked around, noting the altar was gone along with Lara and found his brother lying a few feet away. "Dean?" Sam rolled to his knees and crawled over to him, taking hold of his shoulder and giving it a shake. "Wake up. Dean!" Sam's panic rose little by little the harder he tried to wake Dean and the longer it didn't happen. He looked frantically around the room but there was nothing.

"Dean, please?" Sam knew he was breathing and his heart was beating but Dean didn't so much as flinch, even when Sam slapped the side of his face. He dug his knuckles into Dean's sternum; something almost guaranteed to get a reaction every time and again…nothing. Sam bit back a sob of fear and tried to stay calm. He couldn't exactly call 911; not with who knew how many leviathans waiting in any or every hospital. "Dammit. Ok. Ok."

Sam pulled Dean up carefully so he was sitting with his brother's head on his shoulder. He grabbed Dean's gun and shoved it into a pocket. "Gonna get you out of here and then we'll…I'll figure this out." He put Dean over his shoulders and staggered out of the house. It felt so wrong to him, sliding Dean's limp form into the passenger seat and getting behind the wheel himself. Sam kept one hand on his brother's chest as he drove; keeping calm, or at least not completely panicking, with the steady beat of Dean's heart under his hand. He wished Dean would wake up and call him a big girl for needing the tactile reassurance yet each time he looked at his brother's slack face, it only made it that much harder not to panic.

"What did she do to you?" Sam asked, whisper-soft as he turned into the motel and felt the first stirring of rage and regret that he'd talked Dean out of just killing her. He knew his big brother thought he had sole purview over the 'hurt my brother and I hurt you' domain but Dean was wrong. Like Dean, Sam had made some of the most painful and sometimes worst decisions of his life in an attempt to protect…or save…Dean.

Sam carried his brother into their room and laid Dean out on the far bed from the door. It was Sam's but he wanted to be sure that if anything, like Lara, decided to come through that door; Sam would have time to protect him. He dug his cell out of his pocket while he went to the table and booted his laptop and called Bobby.

"Sam? How'd it go with the witch?" Bobby's gruff voice came over the phone.

Sam sucked in a breath at the instant comfort the sound offered. "Not so good." Sam quickly relayed what had happened to the older Hunter. "Bobby, this is my fault."

"Oh, bullcrap, Sam." Bobby quickly stopped him before he could get started on his customary guilt spiral when it came to Dean being hurt. "You didn't cause this. She's a powerful witch and she got the drop on ya. Only way to avoid it would'a been to go in shootin' and we both know that wasn't gonna happen; witch or not. Your brother don't just kill humans no matter how much he may want to sometimes."

Sam sighed and nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. Bobby was right. "Ok. Alright but what about Dean? Why won't he wake up?" His mounting fear returned as he looked over at his brother lying so still on the bed. "She said it was some kind of gift but…how is this a gift?"

"Take it easy, son," Bobby soothed and wished he was there. The memory of Sam's sanity breaking was still too close and he worried about the kid; way more than Sam thought he did and Bobby didn't even want to consider what would happen to Sam if Dean never woke up... if he died. Bobby swallowed hard. "I'm gonna look into it. I'll find something. Dean's gonna be fine. I'll call you back soon as I find somethin'. You just keep an eye on him."

"I will. I…thanks, Bobby." Sam hung up and took a minute to catch his breath. He moved and sat beside Dean on the bed for a moment; making sure he was still alive and breathing before he went over to the little table and his laptop and started some research of his own.

Dean woke in a fog. He couldn't remember what had happened at first or even where he was and his entire body felt strangely…numb; disconnected. He sat up and stared, blinking furiously as his swirling vision cleared and he realized that they were back at the motel.

"Sammy?" Dean asked and watched his brother's eyes jerk frantically up from where he sat with his laptop to look at him. Dean frowned when Sam's entire body flinched as though struck and his little brother looked back at the laptop; ignoring him. "Dude, what the hell? What happened?" Dean stood and rubbed a hand over his face. "Sam!" Dean stopped just short of shouting when, although Sam's shoulders twitched at the sound of his voice, he refused to look up. "Ok, you're freakin' me out here, dude. Talk to me already!"

Dean heard Sam muttering something softly and went over. He knelt next to his brother and fear dropped heavily into his heart; Sam was muttering 'stone number one' over and over and digging the thumb of his right hand into the palm of his left over the healed scar with a frantic look of terror on his face. Sam's eyes rose up, skittering across his to look beyond him toward the bed.

"Sam, you gotta tell me what's goin' on in that head of yours, buddy." Dean tried for calm even though he was terrified he was watching his little brother finally lose it completely. It was the thing that scared him more than any other. That night in the warehouse came back to him in a rush and he reached a hand out as Sam lurched away to his feet suddenly, avoiding the touch.

"Dean, wake up." Sam said softly in a pleading tone of voice.

"Dammit, Sam. I'm right…" Dean's voice choked off in his own throat as he turned to follow his brother and saw what Sam was staring at; Dean's body still lying on the far bed and looking, for all the world, dead. Dean's jaw fell open in shock and he could only watch while Sam sat beside him…beside his body. "What the fuck is happening?" Dean whispered it. "Sammy?"

A soft, spine-tingling laugh that Dean hadn't heard in over two years came from the corner behind him. Dean turned and staggered back a step. His hand went for his waist and his gun in response only to find he wasn't carrying it. "No way."

"Wow." Lucifer chuckled again and then started clapping his hands slowly. "I think our little Sammy's finally found a whole new level of 'broken'. I am…I am impressed."

Dean watched the vision of the devil stand and stroll over to his little brother. "Get away from him."

"Nope." Lucifer clapped a hand to Sam's shoulder, making the man jump where he sat. "Anytime you wanna end this and start over, buddy. You know what you have to do."

Sam's heart leaped into his throat and he dug furiously at the scar on his palm again. He closed his eyes while the pain shot up his arm and then slit them open.

Dean watched Lucifer roll his eyes and flicker out of sight. "Sam. I don't….what's going on? What happened with the witch?"

Sam sucked in a breath on a sob and refused to look over at the vision of his brother. "Played this game before." Sam said softly. He rested a hand on Dean's chest for a moment, feeling the steady beat of his heart and then stood to go back to the laptop, all while not meeting the other Dean's eyes. "I know it's not Dean. I know it's…you're not him."

"No, no, no. Sammy. Shit no." Dean's legs went out from under him and he dropped to his knees beside his brother to look up at him. "That witch bitch did this, Sammy! Somehow she did this!" Dean swallowed hard and shook his head. "It's me, Sam. I swear it's really me. I'm not a hallucination and I'm not…I'm not him! Sammy, you gotta believe me!"

Dean watched his brother's jaw tighten and his eyes remained glued to his computer screen; pretending he couldn't see or hear him. Dean jumped to his feet and spun in surprise at the sound of a fire crackling. He stared in open-mouthed shock as what could only be hell-fire ate along the edges of the walls; slowly climbing the woodwork. Frost grew across the panes of the window; eating at the glass with a soft, crunching sound and the jangle of chains…those hated chains that Dean remembered only too well…began to fill the room.

"Oh, God, Sammy," Dean breathed it in horror. "Is this what you're living with every damn day?" He turned to look down at his little brother, hunched over the laptop's screen. "Why wouldn't you tell me it's this bad? Why would you keep this from me?"

"I can handle this," Sam whispered to himself. He put his hands over his face and tried to take a few deep breaths. "Not real. Not real. It's not real." He barely stopped from plugging his ears to block out the remembered sound of chains and meat hooks and let out a shaky breath as he took his hands back down to look at the laptop. He had research to do. Whatever Lara had done, there had to be a way to fix it…to get Dean back.

Dean watched, a little in awe, as Sam somehow managed to ignore every bit of hell seeping out of his mind to torment him; completely focused on whatever he was researching. Sam had tried once to tell him what it was like; what he saw and heard and felt but only in the simplest terms and even then, Dean had been nowhere close to understanding what Sam meant when he'd said he couldn't tell what was real anymore. Now he understood in a way that made his blood run cold and the breath freeze in his chest.

The ringing of Sam's phone, in addition to everything else going on around him, made Sam come close to jumping out of his skin. He took a deep breath to settle what was left of his fraying nerves and answered it. "Bobby. Please tell me you found something."

Dean watched his brother get back up and go over to the bed to sit next to his body and wished Bobby could hear him. "I'm real, Sam. I swear. You need to tell Bobby I'm here." He could only hear Sam's side of the conversation and it was a little frustrating.

"No, he's still out." Sam said softly into the phone. Ignoring the phantom Dean over his shoulder was becoming more difficult but he steeled himself. He just wanted to hear his real brother's voice so badly but then…Lucifer had used just that need to torment him in the past. Sam closed his eyes. "Yeah, he's breathing fine. Pulse is fine. He just…he won't wake up. Bobby…I need him to wake up."

Dean suffered and watched Sam nod; seemingly forgetting for the moment that Bobby couldn't see him. "Sam, I'm sorry. I should never have pissed her off. You were right, dude." He sat on the other chair at the table and watched his brother put his phone away. He looked up at the ceiling and shuddered as holes cracked in the plaster and chains began to slowly push throw and eel along the ceiling. "You wanted to teach me a lesson, lady. You have, ok? Don't do this to him anymore." Dean didn't know if she could even hear him, or if she cared but he couldn't stand it any longer.

"What do you think? It's been a while since he had two Deans to worry about," Lucifer reappeared suddenly and strolled into view, tossing Dean a grin at the table. "I bet three would just make you beg, Sammy."

"Leave him alone," Dean snarled. The devil may just be a fractured part of his brother's psyche but clearly the thing had developed a life of its own. He clenched his fists angrily when Lucifer transformed into an image of him.

"So many Deans, so little time." Lucifer snorted with Dean's face and reached out to clap his hands loudly in front of Sam. "Sammy!" His voice boomed and Sam jumped off the bed to stand and try to look anywhere but at him.

Sam's breath stuttered in his chest. There wasn't anywhere to look anymore. The hellfire, the frost that had eaten the windows, the chains coiling darkly along the ceiling over his head like they were alive and the devil taunting him with his brother's face…Sam shook once, hard and closed his eyes as he grabbed his left hand again.

"Please, Dean. Please." Sam whispered over the laughter in front of him and the cruel pleading of Dean's voice behind him. "I need you to wake up. I can't…I can't hold on to myself if you're not here." Sam opened his eyes to look down at his real brother; still asleep in the bed. "I know I keep saying I can but I'm wrong. I'm wrong, ok? Please wake up."

"Begging already, bunk buddy," Lucifer chuckled and sent a cheerful grin to the real Dean over his shoulder. "Used to take me a lot longer to get him here in the Cage. Ooh!" He clapped his hands again and leered at Sam's rigid, terrified face. "Should we tell Dean the kinds of things we used to do, Sammy?" Lucifer changed back into his own form and looked straight into Dean's furious, green eyes as he put both hands on Sam's shoulders. "The way we used to make him sob and scream and 'anything but that!'" Lucifer's voice rose into a mocking version of Sam's as he laughed again.

"Shut up." Dean's voice was a rough growl as he took a step toward them. "You get the hell away from him you son of a bitch! Sam, he's not real!"

"Sam thinks I'm real. Don't you?" Lucifer clucked his tongue and shook his head sadly. "My poor, cracked-up, confused little bitch."

Dean flinched with the sure knowledge of what that meant and pushed it away. It didn't do him any good and it wasn't like he couldn't guess. Nothing was sacred in hell. Nothing; certainly not your rights to your body. "I said leave him alone!"

"I need to hear some real begging." Lucifer gripped his hands around Sam's throat and lifted him from the floor with a grin.

Sam gasped and then choked, unable to catch his breath. He'd been so busy trying to tune out the devil and his false 'Dean' he hadn't seen his hands come for him. He kicked his feet, toes just barely brushing the floor while Lucifer's cool eyes smiled up at him. Sam saw the vision of his brother move in from his left, saw that familiar glare of deathly rage aimed at the devil and then he watched in shock as that Dean drove his fist into Lucifer's face.

Sam dropped to the floor on his knees, coughing and wheezing in air. He clasped a hand around his neck and looked up with confusion shredding what was left of his reason while Lucifer staggered back, cupping a hand over his clearly bleeding nose and then vanished. The hellfire, the frost and even the chains all vanished with an almost audible pop and the room was silent except for his own labored breathing. Green eyes filled with nothing but concern turned to look down at him and Sam's breath caught painfully in his chest as everything this Dean had been saying started to sink in.

"Dean?" Sam whispered in such a broken, ragged and hopeful voice as he looked up at his big brother that it was almost inaudible.

Dean's heart broke a little and he nodded. The first tear rolled down his own face before drawing an answering flood from Sam as his little brother slammed his eyes closed and bent to curl over his knees next to the bed. "Right here, Sammy. I'm right here." He knelt in front of him and reached out a hand; hoping that if the devil in his brother's head could touch him, maybe he could too. His fingers met some small resistance at Sam's shoulder but then passed through. "Dammit."

Sam shuddered with the almost touch. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I can handle this." He scrubbed his hands over his face and tried to stop the sobs that had somehow broken free. He never let his brother see him like this. He hid away the broken moments so carefully and now it was just out there for Dean to see; Dean who he knew couldn't see it without blaming himself for it somehow. "It's not…not your fault." Sam suddenly felt the need to reassure his big brother even though he still couldn't lift his head. "Cas…but not you. I can handle…long as you're here." He whispered the last between hitching breaths in a serious effort to not hyperventilate and nearly jumped out of his skin when a familiar hand slid over the back of his head.

"I'm right here, kiddo." Dean said in a voice hoarse with emotion. The moment he'd tried to touch his brother, he'd snapped awake in his own body with the jarring sensation of falling from a great height. He dropped a hand to his brother's shaking head and quickly rolled off the bed to his knees next to him. "Sam, take a breath. Come on." Dean grabbed hold of him, straightened Sam and pulled him to hold him in a tight hug. "Stone number one, buddy. I'm ok. We're ok."

Sam nodded numbly and hid his face in his big brother's shoulder for a moment; something he'd rarely done since they were kids but at that moment, he needed the old reassurance while every breath burned in his chest. "Dean." He said again, like a plea for this to be real and not all in his head.

"Still here," Dean said with a sad smile for his brother's fractured mind. He looked around the unassuming motel room with new eyes; having witnessed the sort of nightmare that he now knew Sam was seeing every waking moment. Dean hauled himself and his brother up until he had Sam sitting on the edge of the bed and he knelt in front of him again. "Sam?"

Sam nodded and took a few hiccupping breaths as he scrubbed the tears from his face and tried not to feel so humiliated at his brother witnessing another of his 'episodes'. "Sorry. Usually…usually I do better than this."

Dean's mouth fell open a little and he stared at him in disbelief. "Holy crap, Sam." He squeezed his brother's shoulders and gave him a shake until Sam's eyes came up to meet his. "I had no idea, man. I mean…" he trailed offfor a moment, trying to find the right way to say it that wouldn't result in another round of apologies from Sam. "I'm proud of you, Sammy." Dean said at last, softly and gave a crooked smile for the surprised look Sam sent him. "Dude, the level you manage to maintain at every day…every damn day with…with THAT going on in your head."

Sam smiled shakily while warmth spread through him with the praise and understanding in his brother's eyes but it fell quickly away. "I'm sorry you had to see that…see…him."

"Shut up, Sammy." Dean rolled his eyes. He studied his brother. He looked like crap with pale skin and dark shadows under his eyes and he truly understood now why he always looked so damn tired. "Lay down. Get some rest." He pushed and it was a testament to how emotionally exhausted the night's ordeal had made him that Sam went over into the pillow without argument. He left his hand on Sam's shoulder for a minute to reinforce that he was really there now. "I'm gonna be right here. That sorry son of a bitch comes back again, you just remember the look on his face when I broke his damn nose." Dean grinned when Sam was surprised into a watery laugh.

"That…that was pretty awesome." Sam said after a moment and rolled to his stomach, hugging his arms around his pillow but he kept his head where he could just see Dean still. "Don't uh…don't go anywhere while I'm asleep, ok?"

Dean snorted and slapped his hand into Sam's back once, heavily before he stood. "I'm gonna cozy up with the coffee maker. I have had enough of sleep for the night." He saw Sam still looking at him and sighed. "Promise, dude. Right here the whole time. I won't leave."

Sam let out a gust of a breath and closed his eyes at last, letting his head settle more firmly into the pillow and smiled when he felt the blanket being pulled up over him and his shoes being tugged off. "Prob'ly oughta call Bobby," he said sleepily and Dean's soft chuckle reassured him as Sam fell swiftly into a spent sleep.

Dean stood by the bed a moment longer; waiting to be sure that his brother was asleep and would stay that way before he scrubbed both hands over his face and went into the bathroom. He hadn't been joking when he'd said he had no interest in sleeping for a while. He looked at himself in the mirror and blew out a breath. "Shit," he said softly and allowed himself one, hard shake in reaction. What he'd seen was going to haunt him for a while and it killed him a little knowing that Sam had no choice but to live with that waking nightmare every day. He'd just have to do what he could to keep him grounded and maybe make it a little more bearable. A small smile curved his mouth; it had felt damn good to punch that evil son of a bitch in the nose.

Dean turned the tap on and splashed some cold water on his face, flipped it off and shook his head. "Even for us, this was one hell of a screwed up job." He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, took another look out at his brother before dialing Bobby to give him the good news and softly closed the door.

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The End.


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